^sTV/V^ 



?viwtJ.Avr^^, ^fio^J, 



MY GOOD \ 






AND 



Other Poems. 




BY 



Major theo. J. eckerson, 

UNITED STATES ARMY. 



COPYRIGHT SECURED. 



BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS 
Democrat and Ranchero Print. 



y^ 1880. 7 

fe — — _^^ 



MY GOOD 



'f 



■rl-'i 



KKMMBXm;-: 



AND 



Other Poems. 



BY 



MAJOR THEO. J. ECKERSON, 



UNITED STATES ARMY. ! 



COPYRIGHT SECURED. 



BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS : 

Democrat and Ranchero Print. 

1880. 






These Scraps, 

CrLLED FROM THE COR?fER OF AN OLD TRUNK^ 

AND PRINTED 

AT THE REQI^EST OF MY CHILDREN. 

I DEDICATE TO 

mil mm& Wife. 

WHO MAY FIND HERE AND THERE .\MONG THEM 

SOMETHING TO REMIND HER 

OF THE PAbT. 

T. J. E. 






The Veteran of the Mexican War. 

To The Lone Star of Texas. 

To The Torn Flag of the 3rd U. S. Infantry. 

To My Old Knapsack. 

Farewell to Mexico. 

Home Joys and Sorrows. 

When My Ship Comes In. 

The Good Man. . . . 

Coming Over the Har. . 

Nineteen Yeais. 

Epithalamknn. 

To My Daughter Sallie. 

To My Daughter Addle. 

The Parting at Fort Sumter. 

Missing. 

Farewell Address — Julia Dean lla\ nc. 

National Hymn. 

Decoration Day. 

The Old Superintendent. 



3 

H 
15 
16 
18 

19 
21 

24 
26 

2S. 
30 
31 

33 
34 
37 
40 
42 
43 
45 



¥l\e Vetefki) of tl|e >Iexi(5iii| Wlit 



-^T/m^-B—a 



5f ' 



ALT there! veteran, for I know you by the badge 
. _.„ that decks your breast! 

^^^ Listen, while I faintly picture how a soldier of 
I the West 

{ Foug-ht and died for our loved country, — paying 
thus the patriot's debt, — 
Braved the hordes of Santa Anna, and the murderous es- 

copet! 
Many a brave boy left his mother for the fields of Mexico, 
Whose white bones are bleaching whiter near the moun- 
tains tipped with snow; 
Many a brother leit a sister, many a true heart left his 

love, — 
Left — no more to clasp the dear ones till they meet in 

courts above! 
You are spared to tell the story— you are here to join the 

ranks 
Of those worn and shattered veterans who receive the 

Nation's thanks! 
Though your sleeve to-day be empty — though all pen- 
sion less you stand, 
With the crowds that come to hail the great Centennial 
of our land, — 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



Yet cheer up! for day Is breaking — and the country's 

heart to-day 
Beats with gratitude, and greets you as when freshest 

from the fray! 
List, then, to your comrade's story, told to loving ones 

whose hands 
Bathed his temples, smoothed his pillow, as he passed to 

heavenly lands; 
See him, languishing and wounded, In his Western home 

to die — 
Hear him tell of glorious battles fought w^here mountains 

pierce the sky. 
* ^ * -H- * 

"I'm faint — but oh! how happy now — 
There — let me lean upon your breast — 

It cools the fever on my brow 

To know I am once more at rest;" 

''Come nearer, sister — take my hand — 

I feel death slowly stealing on — 
Nearer^ — I'll tell thee of that band 

That many a gallant field has won." 

"I need not speak the joy I felt 

When first the summons calljd Ho armsf 

My trusty sword — my warrior belt — 
Had each to me a thousand charms — " 

"Nor how, when marshalled with our host, 

1 glanced along the serried line, 
And felt that I could truly boast 

It held no sturdier form than mine." 

"On Palo Altos well-fought field 

We first stood forth to meet the foe, — 

The veteran Taylor seized the rein 
That curbed the pride of Mexico." 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



"Like grass before the scythe we mowed them- 
Our well-trained coursers trod the field, 

As if they knew the hearts that rode them 
Were there to conquer— not to yield!" 

''With souls as firm and nerves as steady 
As ancient Sparta's sons possessed,. 

We rallied round '^Old Rough and Ready,'' 
And victory perched on every crest;" 

"E'en now, while I relate the story, 
My sinking spirit seems more light, 

For there the first bright glimpse of glory 
Kolled up before my ravished sight!'' 

''Ringgold and Duncan from our flanks 
Covered the field with d jad and dymg — 

Shrapnel and grape tore through their ranks, 
And sent their rent battalions flying!" 

"From noon to dark in smotherino- smoke 
rrom the rank prairie's burning grasses, 

The dread artillery thunder broke, 

Nor paused till night obscured the masses." 

''Sons of the South— Sons of the North, 

Fought there as brother shieldmg brother, — 

From Maine to Georgia went they forth — 
God! — may they never fight each other!" 



"Resaca's field next lay before us, 

And foes in thousands bit the ground! 

Again 1 joined in victory's chorus — 
Again was free from scar or wound — " 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



"Nine thousand escopets were flashing 
From the vine-tangled chaparral 

Against our nineteen hundred, dashing 
Throuo'h brush to meet this blaze of hell!" 

o 

*'The hoary veterans of Tampico 
In batter}' stood — a proud array — 

But guns and tumbrils were abandoned 
At Sackets chari^ewith Charlie May!'' 

o 

^'Our glorious Rtdgely poured his fire 
In ceaseless volleys through the brush, 

Till vanquished, in confusion dire, 
They lor the Rio Grande rush !" 

"Ah! Rio Bravo — glorious river, 
So smoothly gliding on your w^ay, 

May the deep crimson life-drops never 
Color your banks as on thai day !" 

"Ah ! Matainoros — clothed in flow^ers 
Like some fair spot of ancient Spain, — 

May your dark walls and glittering towers 
Ne'er gaze upon such sight again !" 



"xAt Monterey again we met them, 

lntrench^:d behind their walis of stone, 

And though with vigor we beset them, 

Three days and nights they held their own." 

"The snow-capped heights of AWev; Leon 
Heard there the first dread sounds of war, 

And many a well-drilled veteran /6'^;/ 
Lay dead, or weltering in his gore." 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



"Worth from the BisJiofs Palace shelling 
Sent swift destruction through the town— - 

Of Mexique's flower the blood is welling 
Beneath tall Sierra Madre's frown—" 

"While Taylor from the eastern plazas^ 
His regulars mixed with volunteers, 

Tunnelled his way straight through the casas 
And stormed the forts 'mid rousing cheers 1" 

''At length our final charge was sounded— 
We drove the foe trom every gun, 

Though hundreds of brave comrades, wounded, 
Breathed their last sigh ere set of sun." 

*'Six weeks our brave five thousand rested; 

( Five himdred nobly dcatli had met—-) 
V>v\\— -for ward r the\^ were to be tested 

On many a field more bloody yet ." 



''At Vera Cruz the blended thunder 

Uf friend and foe the sand-hills shook--- 

The screeching shells when rent asunder, 
Sought out their prey in every nook---" 

"Each moment proved our arms victorious, 
As day and night Death s errand sped— 

Oh ! t'was a sight sublimely glorious 1 
Sister— I faint-— raise— -raise my head I" 

"Seel— from our mortar batteries streaming, 
The dreadful missiles seek the clouds I 

Now hear the crashing, then the screaming, 
As dowm they plunge on frightened crowds T' 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



"Undaunted Perry trom the water 
Batt< rs San Juan de Ulloa s walls,— 

Each noble vessel aids the slaughter. 
Till prone the 'Cactus banner falls !" 

"Our \'eteran Totten never w^earies 
Till bursting shell and blazing- fuze 

Like eagles swooping from their eyries 
Complete the doom of Vera Cruz!" 



''Now onward still, each man a hero, 
We climbed the Cerro Gordo height, 

And strewed the fair fields ni Enceiro 

With hordes who sought inglorious flight!" 

"Shall I forget the cheers so hearty 
Ihat from the mountain side arose 

As Harney led that storming party 

Through showers of grape to nuet our foes?'' 

''Up the steep Cerro, hot and flurried — 

Then with clubbed muskets dealmg death — 

Then to the swift pursuit we hurried 

With shouts of victory on each breath!'' 

'TIere, when the fiery chase had started. 
Led by the proud, impetuous Worth, 

A musket ball my bridle parted, 
And horse and rider fell to eai'th!" 

"On came the crowd in fury dashing — 
No power such avalanche could s'ta}' — 

1 heard the shouts — the sabres clashing — 
1 felt their tread, and swooned away!" 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



*Tor hours unconscious, crushed and wounded 

I la}' upon that cold earth bed — 
I woke at length, and then there sounded 

An angel whisper near my head;" 

''I strove to rise and gaze around me - 
Far off were now the sounds of war — 

Close to the earth my courser bound me, — 
Good steed! — thou'lt champ thy bit no more!" 

'' 'Stranger — look up -a friend is near thee' — " 
(In soft Castifan accents spoken — ) 

" -Within our cot w^ell strive to cheer thee, 

*' 'And bind thy limbs so bruised and broken'.' 

"Up to a mountain hut they bore me, 

Long weeks ot fever rolled awav, 
Ere care and kindness could restore me 

To greet once more the light of day." 

''Mv angel nurse — fair Aztec daughter, — ■ 
Hung o er my couch with swjetest care, — 

And when I feeoly called for water, 
The juicy orange still was there!" 



''Upon the rocks at rough Coiitreras, 
At last I with my comrades stood — 

Again the dark-skinned foemen dare us — 
Again begins the work of blood!" 

''Nio-ht fell upon our ranks so steady — 
Fierce rains poured on our weary heads- 

But daylight found us bright and ready 
To charge their works through lava beds.' 



"THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



''Forth from \\\^ pedregal \^^ drove them- 
That glorious morn I'll ne'er forget — 

For death below, and death above them, 
And death on evory side they met!" 

"The gallant Smith, to victory led us, 
While veteran RiLi!:v followed fast, — 

And horse and toot in terror fled us, 
As leaves before the Northern blast!'' 



"All flushed with victory and undaunted 

We breasted Ckuntbuscd s fire. 
And the 'Old Third' its colors planted 

High on the convent's topmost spire!'' 

"With shouts we crossed the co^^•ent ditches 

'Mid raking fire of shot and shell, 
Crawling through smoke and crumbling breaches, 

Till wounded, wet with gore, 1 fell !" 

"On rode that warrior without tarnish, 

The ever-conquering hero, Scott ! 
Who in the hour of fire and carnacre 

Mercy's sweet promptings ne'er forgot !" 

"I saw his conscious charger prancing — 
1 saw the chieftain's features crlow — 

And, high o'er all, our flag adxancing 
To grace the halls of Mexico !" 

"Two thousand brave ones, dead and gory. 

Slept tranquil ere the moon arose: 
But tlie cioJit tlioitsand, crowned luitli glory, 

Had routed forty thousand foes ! ' 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



''How Worth's brave cohorts stood the slaughter 

On dark Molina s glorious morn, 
When death from escopet and mortar 

Stalked through his ranks so sadly torn — " 

''How his stout lads, eleven hundred, 
Lay dead before the fight was done, 

While fort and redoubt o'er them thundered, 
That day until the field was won — " 

*'How the proud Capital was taken — 

Its outworks battered to a wreck — 
And even the deep foundations shaken, 

Of towering, proud Chapultepec — " 



"Let others tell; — for faint and bleeding. 
These closing scenes 1 could not share. 

But on my couch, all else unheeding, 

Dreamed of my home and loved ones there !" 

'*Yes, let them tell of Ajigostiira 

Where Taylor's dwindled force withstood 
The shock of Santa Anna's fury, 

And hurled his thousands back subdued!'' 

'*Let them recall Taos and Efnb^ido, 

Where our dragoons the onslaught met — 

Where Burgwin fell in glorious battle! 
Where Ingalls won his first brevet! 

''You've asked me, dear ones, ''where s the glory I 
Oh ! tell me, have 1 answered you ? 

Have you not heard the stirring story 
Of march, and fight, and victory too?"" 

"The scattered ranks of proud Arista — 
The shattered walls of Monterey — 

The slaughtered hosts of Bicenavista — 
Are these not glory, sister, say?" 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 



••'Give me some water -1 am weary — 

My tongue is burning — short my breath— - 

O, for a sieep---th^ ^oad seems .Ireary-— 
Qiiick .'---raise me, mothjr,---e,$' this death? ' 

''Ha I— -who are these that float around me 
Like pleasant memories of the past? 

What ! Carl ! the faithful friend who found me 
When the life-blood was oozing fast ! ' 

"Come nearer, comrade— let me hold you-— 
Why thou art cold— '-whose hand is this ? 

See, my good Carl— just as I to d you— 
I'm home once more---sister— -a kiss—'' 

''Carl— mv brave heart I dost thou remember 

The rain and mud at Monterey^ 
That fearful blacV night in Sepiember, 

When we beneath the caissons lay?" 

"How the 'Bl.ick Forf all night did shell us — 
How as ea..h tour on post was sped, 

We crawled, all shivering, to our fellows, 
Mixed up, the living with the dead?" 

"Dost mind the smoke-wrapped prairie battle, 
Where Mexico's proud crest came down 

'Mid iron hail and cannon's rattle, 

Ha ! ha ! old Carl--dost mind Fort BrownT' 

"My brain seems wandering---yet my comrade 
Stood surely at my side but now,--- 

His faithful hand methought was wiping 
This damp that settles on my brow,—" 

**A mist is stealing o'er my senses— - 
Ha ! — now again I'm in the fight — 

See where tall Harney's charge advances — 
Look how they poise their bayonets bright !" 



THE VETERAN OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 13 

'*I see the scattered legions flying I 

I see the flash of every gun ! 

Oh, God ! — dear Mother — this is dying !" 
* ^ * * * 

The warrior sleeps — the victory's wonT' 



Thus he passed away, our veteran, home from many a 
weary tramp 

From the shores of Corpus CJiristi to the last beleaguer- 
ed camp ! 

Let us drop a tear, my comrade, let us mourn v^ith 
bated breath 

O'er the twenty thousanil brave ones in that strange land 
doomed to death ! 

Land where Grant, the youthful warrior, breasted his 
baptismal fire 

On the mountain, in the valley, under many a cross-deck- 
ed spire ! 

Land that drank the blood of freemen thirty long, long 
years ago. 

Land of silver stream and mountain — thrice unhappy 
Mexico ! 

But while mourning, still remember that the country's 
heart to-day 

Throbs from North to South, and greets you as her 
heroes from the fray I 

Though no more the tawny foeman meets you on his 
river banks. 

Where the ''Northern winged artillery thundered through 
his shattered ranks," — 

Though your sleeve hang loose and empty, and on tot- 
tering limbs you stand, 

Listening to the great Centennial shout resounding 
through the land, — 



14 TO THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 

Let that shout assure you, veteran — keep your banner 

still unrolled. — 
For the Nation will remember those who won the Land 

OF Gold ! 



¥o tl\e Loi^e ^tai^ of ¥exk^. 






O LONGER alone art thou— 
The struggle not only thine — 

But safely encircled now 

In a irlorious wreath to shine! 



t:> 



No longer shall Mexico 

Pursue thee with hated war — 

No more the inhuman foe 

Oppress thee, thou once lone star! 

The banner of stripes and stars 
No longer at rest may dwell, 

But rallies its sons of Mars 

On the soil where brave Crockett fell ! 

Rise, Texans! the brave^ the free! 

Your conquest is Mexico! 
Your motto ''still onward" be — 

Remember the Alamo! 

For no longer the lone star thou — 

The conflict not only thine — 
But safely encircled now 
' In a glorious group to shine. 

MAY, 1S46. 



TO THE TORN FLAG, 3RD U. S. INFANTRY. 15 



¥0 tlie ¥ofii ^m^, 3i^(i ll. ^. Inf^ti^y. 




AVE ON, proud ;i'ag! Wave on- 

Nor blush to own the scars 
So proudly, nobly won 
■^ 4^ " Amid the din of wars! 
Thy willing folds shake out, 

Well pierced although they be— 
In the Resaca's rout 
They led to victory ! 

Wave on, to tell the foe 

Thy stars are on the way 
To shine in Mexico 

Bright as at Monterey ! 
Speak out in glorious might — 

Tell themi the fierce onset 
Of Cerro Gordo's height 

Is but a foretaste yet ! 

Well hast thou made us feel 

That, foremost in the fight, 
Thy presence nerves the steel 

rhat strikes for freedom's right! 
That shattered as thou art — 

Torn though thy foldings be 
The sight still cheers the heart 

And bids us on with thee! 



APRIL 20, 1847. 



A( 



l6 MY OLD KNAPSACK. 



>Iy Okl Ki)kpb^i\dk. 



^ARE THEE WELL— my good old knapsack! 
I must part with thee at last; 
"^^jcCi^'SInce I took thee as companion 
'I* We have weathered many a blast; 
{ Through the Palo Alto thunder 
And Resaca's field of blood, 
Thou hast faced it out, old fellow, 
And unscathed in battle stood! 

When dark night had closed the carnage 

Of that great victorious clay, 
And r slept m mud so weary 

In the fort at Monterey, — 
Dead companions all around me 

In that dark and bloody den, — 
Then 1 found thy worth, old knapsack — 

How I owned thy virtues then I 

Vera Cruz and Cerro Gordo 

Each have tried thy sinews well; 
Stern Contreras — Churubusco — 

All thy many virtues tell, — 
Firm Chapultepec beheld thee 

Ere it met its overthrow, 
And thy march with me was onward. 

Till unslung in Mexico. 

Thou wert ever true, old fellow, — 

Thou to me w^ert ever true, — 
I have carried thee in summer, 

And when Texan northers blew; 
When my triends had all deserted, — 

When my foes looked doubly black, — 
When fond hope had almost yielded, — 

Still I found thee at my back! 



MY OLD KNAPSACK. I? 



How my tears have coursed adown diee, 

Pillowed on the desert sand, 
As I read my mother's letters, 

Penned with aged trembling hand, 
Or perused a sister's missive, 

Breathing o'er me childhood's spell ^ 
Calling home the wayward wanderer^— ^ 

Let the chords of memory tell ! 

When with pain my head was throbbing, 

And fatigued and worn I lay, 
Thinking of the morrow^'s conflict 

And of loved ones far away, — 
Weary, heart-sick, sad and foot-sore, 

Dark seemed all the world to me, — 
'Reft of all save thee, old knapsack. 

Could I fail of loving thee? 

True, 1 little thought, old fellow, 

When 1 shouldered thee at first, 
That the ties which bound so firmly, 

All were doomed in time to burst; 
But alas ! thy coat is threadbare, 

^W^here my head so oft hath lain," 
And the care once lavished on thee 

Ne'er can be bestowed again ! 

And when I, worn out in service, 

'Neath the sod shall be laid down, — 
When no more the front of battle 

Shall inspire me with its frowm, — 
May some noble-hearted comrade. 

Kindly, to my memory, 
Shed an honest tear, old knapsack, 

As is falling now for thee. 

VERA CRUZ, MEXICO, JANUARY 20., 18-18. 



l8 FAREWELL TO MEXICO. 



I^^i'ewell to jVfexido. 




WRITTEN ON EMBARKING FROM VERA CRUZ, MEXICO, JANUARY, 1848. 

|AIR LAND — at length I leave thee, yet 

Thy silvery streams and sunny skies 
Fade from my view without regret — 
With not a tear to dim these eyes. 
I leave thy mountains croj\med with snow, — 

Thy temples with their marble floors, 
Where kneels the maid whose whisper low 
In humble suppliance heavenward soars. 

No more my footsteps o'er thee roam — 
A voice superior calls me home ! 

IVe wandered o'er thy flowery fields, 

And pensive sat beside tlw streams ; 
Tve owned the power which beauty wields, 

In daylight thoughts, in midnight dreams; 
Yes — I have loved an Aztec maid — 

Her listening ear has heard my sighs, — 
And oh! 1 could have always staid 

To gaze into those dark, dark eyes, 
But that my own paternal dome 
Looms up to cail the wanderer home. 

I've seen thy choicest warriors fall 

Before the rifles' deadly aim, 
And mourned thy millions held in thrall 

By fiends who seek inglorious fame; 
I've seen the comrades at my side 

Amid the cheers of victory die, 
And laughed, aye, shouted in my pride 

To see thy rent battalions fly ! 

But, blood enough — I cross the foam 
To greet once more my own dear home. 



HOME JOYS AND SORROWS. 19 



Farewell ! I leave thee not alone — 

The stars and stripes still proudly deck 
Thy palaces of massive stone — 

Thy lofty towers, Chapultepec; 
I leave thee, all fond thoughts repressing, 

All bright and sunny as thou art — 
I go to meet a parent's blessing 

And glad once more a sister's heart. 
A thousand breezes sweetly come 
To waft me to my childhood's home. 



HoiT(e Jov0 and ^oiTow^. 



' /^'OME, prattle, little one, 
• . Ya 1 hold thee in my arms, 
'M^ For day's dull toil Is done, 
*|^ And home is full of charms. 

Leap, my young soldier, leaj)! 

Shout forth thy joy wnth might! 
How sweet will be the sleep 

That crowns thy lids to-night! 

Th)^ brother looked like thee, 
Ere God his spirit took — 

Not quite so full of glee. 

But ah! that heavenly look! 

Yes, and we loved him too — 

(Frown not, we loved another) - 

And God, who took him, knew 
How we did love thy brother; 



HOME JOYS AND SORROWS. 

And how we watched him grow, 
Through months that slowly ran, 

And longed together, so, 
To see our boy a man. 

And \vhen the fell disease 
Was preying on his cheek. 

How on our bended knees 

Our soul's distress we'd speak 

- Live, little darling, live— 
Thy father's fondest trubt — 

For, oh! we cannot give 
Thy beauty to the dust! 

*' Father in heaven ! look down- 
In mercy he^r our prayer — 

We may deserve thy trown. 
But, ah 1 hi pity spare ! " 

In vain our fond regard — 
Afflictions vale we trod; 

And though the task was hard, 
VVe gave him back to God. 

Thv mother's hopeless grief 
Long time no comiort knew, 

Till Heaven a sweet reliet 
Upon our misery threw. 

An J tJioH wert sent to cheer 
Oin- sad, benighted wa) , 

And with th\- smile to clear 
Uur darkness into da\ . 

Oh! words ot j()\" were there ! 

And tears, like* sunshine rain, 
10 chasu away despair — 
W'c clasped our boy ai^ain! 



I 



WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 21 



The little toys, lono- hidden 

Within the secret drawer, 
Came out, almost unbidden, 

Once more to strew the floor. 

-x- 4t -x- * 

Ah! sleepy little one, 

Thine eyelids droop, I see — 

Well, father's story's done, 
And mother waits for thee. 

God love thy precious heart, 
And keep thee with lis long; 

But if we're called to part, 

(tOcI! make the weak heart strong! 

See how the dear one smiles. 

As if our prayer to Heaven 
Had reached the blessed aisles, 

And answer sweet were given. 

^Jliere — fold thy little hands 

And sleep — come take him, mother — 
He'll dream of heavenly lands, 

And see his angel brother! 



JULY iS- 



f!f'VE a precious little daughter, 
k^ And her name is Adelaide, — 
^'No bright jewels yet I've bought her, 
Tho' her nut-brown hair's in braid; 
And as often as she plagues me 
For a bracelet or a pin, 
I console her with the promise, 

"'Yes, love, when my ship comes inf^ 



'HEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 



O, the dreaming little daughter! 

In bright visions of the night, 
Strings of fairest pearls and bracelets 

Still appear before her sight, — 
And before the morning kisses 

Or the morning prayers begin, 
Up she runs to ask her father 

When the ship is coming in. 

'* Listen, mother, let me tell you 

What a pleasant dream I've had, — 
Up the straits came father's vessel, 

And you both appeared so glad ; 
All the b(-lls in town were ringing, 

And awa)' above the din, 
I could rea 1 on tloating banners, 

%)y\ The ship is com in?; in ! ' 



"Then methought a host of bright ones, 
As the anchor rattled down. 

Gathered in the shrouds, and cheering, 
joined the huzzas of the town ; 

While the Captain, smiling sweetly, 
By a gesture of his hand 

Had the sails all turled so neatly 



Bv a white-winged angel band! 



ff 



Dream on. joyous little daughter, 

But a few, short, sunny years. 
And your \isions bright will vanish, — 

All yoLU' pearls dissolve in tears; 
For the long expected vessel 

Bears no pearl nor jewelled pin. 
Though her freight of tears and sadness 

Is most surel\- coming in. 



WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN. 23 



Yes, my trusting little daughter, — 

O, my winsome xVdelaide, — • 
When 1 cross the troubled water, 

And my last, last debt is paid, — 
When sad faces crowd around me, 

And, with locks all white and thin, 
I am laid within my coffin, — 

Then my ship is coming in ! 

Of her freight of tears and sorrows 

None will be for me to share, — 
Mine have all been wept and suffered 

Thro' Ipng years of grief and care; 
Yours will be the cross, my darling. 

While the crown alone I win, 
Yours will be the tears and anguish. 

When my ship comes, sailing in! 

For my great Redeemer llveth! 

He who stilled the raging seas, 
Steers the ship that iills your dreamlngs, 

And controls each adverse breeze; 
He who bore the cross, my Addle, 

To redeem a world from sin, 
Alwa3'S smiles to find us ready 

When the ship Is coming in. 

To my ear, this pleasant evening, 

Sitting here before the door. 
Heavy anchor-chains are rattling 

As my ship comes near the shore; 
I can hear the loose sails flapping. 

And the sailors' merry din, 
And I see the Captain smiling 

As my ship sails slowly in! 

JUNE, 1861. 



2A THE GOOD MAN. 



Tl\e Gooil jMai\, 




^Ili^HO is the good man ? Is It he 

Who, conscious of superior power, 
".Ignores himself, that he may be 
"''^v ' Of use to others every hour? 

Certes, the man who thus would use 
His powers, to aid his fellow-man — 

Who ne'er his influence would refuse. 
The flame of human love to fan — 

Must bear a larger, loftier soul 
Than millions of our selfish race, 

Who only seek to reach their goal 
By means however low and base. 

Then let us contemplate this man, 
Though his existence be ideal ; 

And while with earnest thought we scan 
His points, imagine he is real. 

Would he be tender? Or be stern? 

Patient? Or lull of fretfulness? 
Quick for his vested rights to turn. 

And fierce those vested rights to press? 

Would he neglect the claims of others. 
To nurse with jealousy his own? 

Or, judging all mankind as brothers, 
Stand up, sometimes, for theirs alone ? 



THE GOOD MAN. 



25 



Extreme to mark what's done amiss 
Against himself? Or patient when 

His wrongs are greatest ? Seeking bliss 
In righting wrongs of other men ? 

Fickle in temper? Losing head 

For every fool that wags the tongue ? 

Thrown off his balance by the dread 
Of wit's frail shaft against him flung? 

I tell thee, friend, that no one fool, 
Nor all the fools arrayed together, 

Could turn that man of brow so cool — 
My friend, the good man is no feather! 

His well-poised temper never fails — 
He cannot lose his self-respect — 

And when the storm of w^rath assails. 
He stands, in conscious strength, erect! 

He bears with peevish ones, and makes 
Allowance for the soul that's weak; 

Ingratitude he calmly takes. 

And smiles at insolence's freak. 

He shuns the dark reveneeful mood, 
And by fresh kindness nobly given, 

O'ercomes the evil by his good, — 
All-powerful attribute of Heaven! 

In short, no fiendish hate w^ithout. 
And no ill-temper throned within, 

Can turn this noble one about, 

Nor from his path this brave one win. 

For inborn generosity 

Can tread no pathw^ay save its own; 
Benevolence, pure-souled and'free, 

Smiles at the dirt before it thrown ! 



26 COMING OVER THE BAR. 



Yes, let us dream of such a man, — 
A tower of m ignan'mlty, 

Whose lofty soul with ease m i y scan 
What others can but dimly see! 

Haply our dreams, by Morphean arts 
Unknown to shillow mortal ken, 

May g-aft his virtues on our hjarls, 
And make us better, happier men. 

AUGUST 25, 1864. 



.>o=S^^c 



u "D 



Cori|ing Over ll^e bar 



AT THE MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER. 



J PROMISED to tell you, my little star, 
Some night before you slept, 
^^^'^ Of the morn we sailed in over the bar, 
1* And the reason why I wept 
I That day. when others all seemed so glad, 
And I in the state-room sat, so sad. 



Was it that friends w^ould meet me there, 
Friends who had known me lono? 

That cordial smiles, with a greeting rare, 
Would come from that merry throng? 

All these, my sweet one, 1 knew were here- 

But not for them was the fallino- tear. 



COMING OVER THE BAR, 27 



Away on Astoria's rugged height, 

As the steam-ship dashed thro' the wave, 

I could see the mound with its head-board white, 
That covers your brother's grave; 

I could fancy 1 heard as the ship came nigh, 

The angel voice of our first-born boy! 

The wild sea-gull floated swiftly past, 

And uttered its plaintive cry: 
The great bar foamed in the fiendish blast, 

And reared its white mountains high; 
But above them all, on the swelling gale, 
1 could hear my dead boy's mournful wail. 

Swift back to the past I wandered then, 

To the scene of that stormy day, 
When I mournfully followed the precious one 

And they lowered him into the clay, 
While tears fell fast on the coflin lid, 
As I strewed the roses over his bed. 



Ten long years have gone slowly by, 
Weil chequered with grief and joy; 

Such tears have seldom bedimmed my eye, 
As flowed for that gentle boy, 

When I gazed once more on that lonely grave, 

On the fir-crown'd height by the sounding wave 



Five other precious ones now^ have twined 
Their tendrils about my heart — 

God! In Thy mercy still be kind, 
For oh! 'tis so hard to part! 

Leave me my loving ones treading the sod — 

Keep Thou the little one, gone back to God ! 



28 NINETEEN YEARS. 



Yes, mv own sweet one, my friends were there, 
Friends who had known me long ; 

The cordial smile and the greeting rare, 
Came from that merry throng; 

But you now know why, when all seemed glad, 

I sat in the state-room, lone and sad. 

FEBRUARY ^th, 1862. 



XtH^t^^ij Year?:^. 



Njllp'lNETEEN years, dear Lizzie, on their course 
• .^^IL^ have run, 

X ^'^^^^^ ^^^^ vows w-ere plighted — vows that made 
^'^ us one; 

O, the clouds, the sunshine — O, the smiles, the tears — 
O, the joys, the sorrows, of those nineteen years! 

Heaven hath kindly IcMit us, as our path we've trod. 
Little hearts to love us, little souls from God; 
Five still travel with us up the mountain steep — 
These ai*e lelt to lo\e us — o;ie is laid to sleep! 

He, our precious first born, pearl of all the rest. 
Waits within the portals of the ever blest — 
Watching for the coming of the loved of earth — 
Those who rocked his cradle ere his second birth! 



NINETEEN YEARS. 



^9 



O, that night of horror when his spirit fled. 
And we sat despairing, watching with our dead — 
Vainly, madly clinging to our darling one- 
Holding back the answer, ''God! Thy ivill he done. 



fM 



* ^ % -Jf * 

Nineteen years have taught us that with bleeding feet 
Thorny paths are trodden, though the flowers be sweet! 
Cups of woe are given — hours of deep distress. 
Pointing us to Heaven, home of happuiess. 



Nineteen years, dear Lizzie, thus their course have run — 
Do I love thee better than when they begun? 
Couldst thou read this heart, love, thou w^ouldst joy to see 
Not a warm pulsation there but throbs for thee! 

When fatigued and sickened with life's many snares, 
Ah ! full well thou knowest how to soothe my cares I 
On that faithful bosom I recline my head, 
All the world forgetting — all my troubles fled ! 

Thou, who liv'st for others — thou, who, oft in pain, 
Still art self-forgetting, others' health to gain — 
Thou, whose intuition, when Tm prone to stray, 
Sees the hidden danger — points the better way — 

Thou, my guardian spirit in all times of need. 

Could I cease to love thee I were lost indeed I 

Could thy gentle nature for one moment doubt, 

Hope would flee, and sunshine from our lives fade out ! 

Nineteen years; dear Lizzie ! O, through many more 
May we walk together to that better shore. 
Where the thornless roses of a world of bliss 
Shall make up in sweetness for the thorns of this ! 

NOVEMBER. 1867. 



30 



EPITHAI.AMIUM. 



]^pitlia]an]hiiiq. 



^sM^ 



4:*^y^0 clouds hang o'er thy future, — thy sky Is clear 
'^l^AiL, and bright, 

*t:;^<.-^^Yet silent tears are falling, loved one, for thee 
to-nio-ht 1 
A father's heart is swelling, grief mingles with his mirth — 
Grief, that so soon thou leavest the old familiar hearth! 

A mother gazes on thee with all a parent's pride, 
And pleasure fills her bosom — she sees her girl a bride ! 
But ah ! a shade of sadness comes stealing o'er her brow — 
She mournfully remembers her place is vacant iwiv! 

Thou in her weary moments hast been a comforter — 
Thy day-dreams and child-sorrows were all revealed to 

her 
Thou wert the first fair daughter that in her arms she 

pressed. 
And. oh! tis sad to give thee in other arms to rest. 

Fond sisters, too, and brothers are w^atching thee with 

joy — 
No antepast of sadness their pleasure can alloy — 
They see that thou art happy — no tear bedims thine 

1 hou'rt with them now, but sadly they'll miss thee bye- 
and-bve ! 

Thy chostMi lord is gazing with rapture on that form 
That turns to meet his glances in rapture just as warm ! 
His heart was formed fi)r loving a soul like thine, sweet 

dove ! 
"Rut were his bosom marble, to see thee were to love ! 



T<T) SALLIE. 



Go with him, then, fair flower! cling with thy youthful 

soul 
To him who swears to guard thee to life's uncertain goal; 
May happiness attend thee while gliding down the stream, 
And all thy days be pleasant as a pure infant's dream! 



¥o bailie. 

V./^O, precious daughter, though our hearts are griev- 

"V^ ing,_ 

• . •■ Go with the warrior husband of thy choice, 
'-.; Nor heed the pangs that pierce us at thy leaving, 
As now we say "farewell" with faltering voice. 

God's blessing go with thee, our darling daughter. 
And shelter thee from evil on thy way, — • 

Watch over thee upon the stormy water, 

And be thy^guard, thy guide, thy life-long stay/ 

xVndoh! when absent from the hearts that love thee, 
And from the eyes that watched thee from thy birth, 

Let memories of the absent ones oft move thee 
To holy thoughts amid the scenes of mirth. 

Think of that Mother who with pure devotion 
Has guided thy young steps from infancy,— 

Whose breast is fraught with love as vast as ocean, 
And swells with grief at parting now from thee. 

Think of thy father — how his loved ones wander 
And leave his weaning years to loneliness, — 

Yet though the ties of love with age grow fonder. 
Submissively he parts with thy caress. 



32 TO SALLIE. 



This sad farewell is not a hopeless parting — 
Not his thy Mother's pangs of rayless grief; 

To him the throbbing breast — the teardrop starting — 
Are but the harbingers of kind relief. 

For he has watched with joy his bright young vision, 
As onward sped her years to womanhood, 

And knew that Love must soon assert Its mission, 
With all its scenes of evil and of good. 

Think of thy absent sister, and thy brothers. 
Who prize thee with a love beyond compare — 

Thy only sister, who above all others 

Will sadly miss thy form at bedside prayer. 

And now thou goest with thy brave young soldier, 
To meet the storms of earth-lite by his side — 

One who has sworn within his arms to fold you. 
And shield e'en with his life his tair young bride. 

Farewell, my daugiiter, and our prayers attend thee — 

Heed not the tears that will unbidden flow- 
May heaven its fairest, dearest blessing send thee— r. 
(jO, with our tears, our prayers, our blessings, — go! 

JANUARY 3i.>t, 1S7S. 



TO ADDIE. 33 



^0 Sdtlie, 



fV^ ^YOUS smiles and tears of sadness 
^y^ Mingle round our hearth to-day, 
* m ' Where the blissful tones of gladness 
\' Have been fondly prone to stay. 
She, our loved one, with another 
Goes, the path of life to share, 
Leavine dear ones, father, mother. 
Sad, with one more vacant chair! 



O, my precious one, my daughter ! 

"O, my winsome Adelaide 1" 
Winsome from the days of childhood, 

When between our knees you prayed; 
Can the heart you now have chosen. 

Beat with love for you like ours ? 
Must the parent-love be frozen, 

Gazing on these nuptial flowers ? 

One short year has scarcely wasted 

Since vour darlinor sister left, — 
Then the pangs of grief we tasted — 

Now aeain are we bereft! 
Who shall now that brioht smile brinor us? 

Who restore those sounds of mirth ? 
Who shall now the old songs sing us. 

As we watch our lonelv hearth ? 



34 THE PARTING AT FORT SUMTER. 



Yet we know that thou art happy, 

And though we may meet no more, 
We shall not forget the promised 

Meeting on the farther shore! 
Earth affords no joy, no laughter, 

But some bleeding hearts are nigh, 
Waiting for the great Hereafter 

In God's glorious by-and-by! 

So our sad farewell is spoken, 

And w^e press that darling form, 
Though our heart-strings, wrung and broken, 

beem like wrecks amid the storm! 
Good bye, Addie 1 Lips no fonder 

Ever pressed a daughter's brow, — 
Oh! — where'er through life you wander, 

Think ot home, so lonely now ! 

JAXrARV 22d, 1S79. 



¥l)e l^aitiiig at I'ort Bun^ter 



"^^Wf^^^ fog around Fort Sumter ] 
iiJ^ Was drifting fast away, 
•^:^'When through the mist a schooner 

Sailed slowly down the bay; 
No Union flag she boasted: — 
Star-emblem of the free — 
But fore and aft there floated 
The lone Palmetto tree. 



'MISSING.' 



37 



God help ye, noble women ! 

Your tears fall hot and fast — 
But ''dm^lins, trust the Major, 

He II b7Hng you right at lastT 
God keep the gallant eighty 

Who wait the tug ot war, — 
And here's to Major Anderson I 

Huzza ! Huzza ! ! Huzza ! ! I 



APRIL, iS6i 



^>ti^^ii]j^." 



'fHEN will you come back again, papa, 
To sit in the old arm-chair 
^^^And read the Bible to mother and me, 
^^' And join in our evening prayer? 
i Oh, you dear, you cruel papa, 
I If you knew how we grieve to-night, 

Wouldn't you leave that hateful war. 
And come to 3^our home so bright? 

When will he come back again mamma? 

I only wish 1 could read 
That letter you moisten so with tears, — 

But my prattle you scarcely heed. 
Soldiers in crowds are passing by, 

As I gaze dowm the lighted street. 
And I long to ask them about papa, 

As they hurry their friends to greet. 



■'missing." 



Don't you remember the day, mamma, 

When the news from Fort Sumter came, 
That the gallant old Major Anderson 

Had won such a glorious name? 
When papa wore such a bright, bright sword 

At the head of his company ? 
And how proud we felt as he marched along, 

When he smiled on you and me? 

Don't you remember the words he said 

When he kissed us the night before, 
And^sat on the side of my litde bed, 

To tell me about the war ? 
How can I ever forget his look. 

As he m.ournfully said to you, 
''Dear, dear Nellie, I love you both, 

But I love the UxiON'too!" 



"Nellie, when on the battle-field 

I share in the conflict wihl, 
I shall be thinking of you alone — 

You and our darling child. 
Wherever our Union banner floats. 

There will my station be. 
Till the rebel hordes are in full retreat 

P>om the field of victory !" 



Yes, and he promised to write, mamma. 

But only one letter came; 
Why don't he write to his litde girl, 

It only to write my name ? 
How he would grieve if he knew you cried 

And looked at his picture so ! 
Surely, oh, surely he'd hasten home . 

With the crowed that is passing now. 



i 



THE PARTING AT FORT SUMTER. 



Fond hearts were sadly beating 

Within that strong- walled fort, 
For wives and children waited 

Without the sally-port — 
Waited in mournful silence 

The signal to depart, 
Which shook with throes of anguish 

Each while's and mother's heart. 



"Arrah, Norah ! don't be cryin'I " 

A Celtic soldier spoke — 
"Sure we'll never think^ajHn' 

Till the. last stale biscuit's broke. 
And darlin', trust the Major, 

He'll brinor us rioht at last!" 
But vain the attempt at soothing — 

The tears fell hot and fast. 



'•It's not for that, my husband — 

It's not for fear I weep — 
I know the gallant Major 

Your lives will safely keep — 
It's for the cruel mandate 

That hurries me away 
Because a coward President 

Would starve vou if I stav!" 



''I know the Nation's watching 

The gallant Major's course, 
And countless hearts are yearning 

To aid his little force; 
But prayers will never feed you 

Nor send more men to fight, 
Though this sad parting gives you 

One biscuit more to-night!" 



3^ THE PARTING AT FORT SUMTER. 



"Walter, my son — my first-born — 

Though 1 must leave you now, 
Think of this kiss at parting 

I'm sealing on your brow; 
And if the rage of battle 

Should chance to lay you low, 
Your life's your country's, Walter, — 

Your brother's ended so." 



But see, the boat is nearing, 

And in the distance, too, 
Crowds throng the Charleston levee 

To cheer the parting few. 
"Good bye, love !" Good bye, darling 

And manly hearts are pressed 
With tearful, sad devotion, 

To manv a loved one's breast ! 



The fog around Fort Sumter 

Had drifted far away — 
A trim and gallant schooner 

Sailed swiftly from the Bay; 
Eyes watched her from the ramparts, 

That trim and gallant sail, 
As from her deck there floated 

Fond woman's mournful wail! 



Eyes watched her from the ramparts 

All wet with manly tears 
Wrung from the soul's affection, 

Not from unmanly fears, — 
But as the white speck faded 

Up rose those sons of war — 
"Three cheers for Major Anderson ! 

Huzza! Huzza!! Huzza !!!" 



"'missing." yj 



As they pass the door to-night, mamma, 

They whisper the name "Bull Run;" 
Is that the name of a battle-field ? 

Have the Union soldiers won? 
They pass along with a saddened look, — 

Their voices are hoarse and low, — 
It was not thus when they marched away, 

Two or three months ago ! 

Don't let me make you cry, mamma, — 

My tears are all dried and crone. 
Now I must say my little prayers, 

And sleep till the morning dawn 
God in Heaven! look down to-night, — 

Watch over our father dear; 
Shelter him in the stormy fight, 

And pilot him safely here ! 

Ah, 3"ou cruel, you dear papa, 

If you knew how we grieve to-night. 
Wouldn't you leave the battle-field 

And come to your home so bright? 
When wall you come back again, papa. 

To sit in the old arm-chair. 
And read the Bible at night once more, 

And join in our evening prayer? 

AUGUST, iS6i. 



40 FAREWELL ADDRESS. 



J^afewell Sddres^. 



!j 



WRITTEN FOR, AND RECITED BY, MRS. JULIA DEAN HAYNE, ON THE OCCA- 
SION OF HER FAREWELL BENEFIT, AT PORTLAND, OREGON, 
NOVEMBER 12, 1S64. 



'HE Actress comes, — not now to act a part, 
^"^^iJL^But speak the leelings of a grateful heart 

'-lii- For kindly smiles, and your too warm applause, 
■^^° So richly given, yet in so poor a cause. 

She acts not now,-— but feelings, oh! how stron; 

Rush to find utterance from her feeble tongue! 

The unremitting toil, — the anguish deep, 

In midnight study oft, while others sleep, 

Till, all fatigued, the overburdened brain 

Finds respite short, and wakes to toil again, — 

Wakes to the cares that claim from her their due, 

As Wife, as Mother, and as Actress too : — 

The dread w^hich visits oft the fainting heart. 

Lest all her efforts fail to fill the part, — 

Lest while the stern endeavors of the mind 

Are sadly tasked, the portrait true to find, 

And paint with truth each passion's varying hue, 

The laults might glare, — her pictures prove untrue; 

Thes'e wring the hearc, and none save artists know 

Those bitter, bitter depths of mental woe. 

But, oh! what sweet results have met her here, 

To banish all anxiety and fear 1 

All care to-night is scattered to the wind. 

Your smiles to greet, your kind applause to find. 



FAREWELL ADDRESS. 



Thanks, for the welcome thus extended here, 

From eyes that sparkle with true friendly cheer. 

Here, where the bright Willamette w^anders free, 

To seek its goal far in the Northern sea, 

And like some fair and blushing mountain bride, 

Greet with the nuptial kiss old Ocean's tide; 

Here, where the hardy miner rests awhile, 

Returning from the scenes of honest toil. 

To wait the noble vessel, soon to bear 

His earth-dug treasures for loved ones to share: 

Here, as I mark your city's busy scene, 

With jo}' I hail Pacific's second queen! 

Long may Willamette's valley smile in peace. 

Her labors lessening as her fruits increase. 

Here the dread sounds of Avar have never come, 

To tear the husband from his much-loved home: 

To rend the maiden's heart, as to the strife 

Her lo\'er goes, to offer up his life. 

Oh I may no eye of those assembled here, 

Be doomed to shed the unavailing tear 

For dear ones, lost beneath the surging wave 

Of War, that dots our land with many a grave I 

And now, farewell; the dearest friends must part, 

Although the breast may throb, the tear-drop start. 

And when far, far from you my lot is cast. 

Think not that aught can e^•er blot the past; 

No! faithful to the hearts that met me here, 

And strewed my path with iiowers of sweetest cheer, 

Memory will turn, when clouds obscure my way. 

To find in thoughts of you a brighter day. 

Fain would I linger here — but voices come 

On every breeze, to whisper of my home; 

My home 1 where fond ones wait with tearful eye, 

And watch each sail that looms against the sky. 

Yes I though the tear-drop start, the bosom swell — 

I must, regretful, speak the sad Farewell! 



NATIONAL HYMN. 



N^ktioTial Hvn|T). 



"' OMEof the free-born I Happy land — 

Where man, progressive, proud and free, 
"^^In God-Hke majesty doth stand, 
Full type of human liberty: 
^ Land of our love! Thy banner bright 
Lights up with joy the patriot's eye: 
Beneath its folds thy sons unite, 
For thee to live, or nobly die I 

Land of the glorious WASiiiNcrroN ! 

Who broke the haughty tyrants chain. 
And led our sires to victories, won 

iV priceless heritage to gain — 
Hail to thv stars ! Let each fair breeze 

Kiss thai bright flag, whose folds elate, 
Shall wave through unborn centuries 

On every tower in every State! 

Oh! may the arm of God delay, — 

Should section still with section strive — 
The horrors of that direful day 

When War our liberties may rive ! 
May Peace and Plenty yet abound. 

And wholesome counsel ne'er depart; 
And may our UNION still be found 

First, dearest to each patriot heart. 

Long may our muchdoved banner float, 
With every star intact and bright, 

Blest cynosure to climes remote, 

Whose millions hail its glittering light! 



DECORATION DAY. 



43 



Long may our emblem-eagle's wing 
Its peaceful shelter mildly spread, 

While new-born nations gladly sing 
Their resurrection from the dead! 

Home of the free-born ! Happy land I 

Where man, progressive, proud and free, 
In God-like majesty doth stand, 

Full type of human liberty: 
Land of our love ! Thy banner bright 

Lights up with joy the patriot's eye — 
Beneath its folds thy sons unite, 

For thee to live, or nobly die ! 

APRIL. i86v 



f)ecoi^atioi) f)ay 



^SSii^^EY deck with flowers thy grave, my noble boy, 
^^f^tt ^" ^^^^^ ^^^^ holiest day of all the year; 
'JlP My grateful heart leaps with a thrill of joy 
^f- That bids me strive to check the rising tear. 

This is my hour of pride, my warrior son ! 

1 give thy grave up to thy country's care — 
To those who, ere their mournful task is done, 

Will strew that mound with flowers all sweet and rare. 



My day of pride! A mother's heart beats high 
To know thouTt numbered with that gallant band 

Who sought the glorious privilege to die 

With arms and face to foe, for our dear land ! 



44 DECORATION DAY. 



Tears I have shed for thee, my soldier child, 
Nor ceased my weeping since that parting day 

When the closed patriot phalanx onward filed 
To meet the foe, and crush his proud array. 

But, for to-day, no weeping! Not one tear 

Shall down this pale and wasted cheek be borne! 

A nation decks thy grave, and thousands here 
Assemble, o'er the gallant dead to mourn. 

Yes, let that nation weep! Enough for me, 
To-day, that thou art of the honored ones — 

To know that thus, for centuries yet to be, 

The nation's heart will throb for these lost sons I 

Enough for me to know that our great chief. 

Who brought his hosts victorious from the fray. 

Joins with a full heart in the signs of grief — 
These honors to our Union dead to-day. 

And so, to-day, no tears ! But, oh, my brave I 
To-morrow, when the mournful pageant's o'er, 

Shall 1 not visit thy untimely grave. 

Dear boy, and wet it with my tears once more ? 

Yes, and my harrowing grief may then have vent, 
Unshared, unnoticed by to-day's sad crowd — 

And a 'reft mother's sobs, now bravely pent, 
May fill the air with grief-tones long and loud. 

Till then, farewell, my lost, my warrior son ! 

Till then 1 leave thy grave thy country's care — 
And generous hands will, ere the day is done. 

Bedeck that mound with flowers all sweet and rare. 

MAY, 1S76. 

.>*^^^c — 



THE OLD SirPERINTENDEKT, OF NATIONAL CEMETERY. 45 



¥l\e Okl ^uperiijtei|(:lei|t, of Rational 

Cemetery. 



'•Four hundred thousand men, 

The good, the bra\e. the true, 
On battle plain, in prison pen, 

Lie dead for me and you I 
Four hundred thousand of the brave 
Have made our ransomed soil their grave, 

For me and you I 

Good friend, for^me and you I" 

^illP^ES, sir, I'm the Superintendent, walk in, please, 
glU^ and have a chair — 
'"'^^^There's a heavy fog this morning, and it sort o' 
I chills the air, 

I But the sun is breaking through it, and I reckon 

we may say 

That we're going to have a beauty this thirtieth of May. 

The Lodge .^ — why. yes, it's cosy and comfortable enough 

For an old and broken soldier who is used to takin' it 

rough; 
And the Quartermaster-General works with a right good 

will 
To fix us — and why wouldn't he.^ the country foots the 
bill. 

My Army? Yes, Lord bless you ! why here they lie in 
rows, 

And I know each soldier's name by heart, as far as nam- 
ing goes ; 

That dozen rows out yonder where you see that pile of 
stone, 



46 THE OLD SUPERINTENDENT, OF NATIONAL CEMETERY. 

Is the left Hank of my army — the brigade of the ^'Un- 

knowfif 
But they'll get their share of flowers in the strewing of 

to-day, 
And you'll see some wet eye-lashes there this thirtieth 

day of May; 
For the nation's heart claims all of them on this proud 

day of ours, 
And it doesn't take a fancy name to fetch the tears and 

flowers ! 

Long service? Well, I've had vc\y share, and forty years 
ago 

I hunted in the everglades to catch the Indian foe; 

I fought at Okee-cho-bee in old "Rough and Ready's 
band. 

And bore my knapsack many a day through Florida's 
burning sand. 

On the field of Palo Alto, at Resaca, too, I fought, 

Where the loss of noble fellows made our victories dear- 
ly bought; 

In Taylor's ranks at Monterey I met Ampudia's crew\ 

Where the Tliu^d went in three hundred and came out 
seventy two ! 

Do 1 find it lonesome.^ No, sir; I sit for many a night 
At the foot of that old flagstafl', when the moon is shining 

bright 
And the wind is whistling lioarsel)', and the rushing of 

the blast 
Makes the hal\ards flap a tattoo against the towering 

mast, 
And my memory gathers round me all the comrades 

brave I knew, 
l^>om Bull Run to Apj^omatox — now reposing 'neath the 

dew — 



THE OLD SUPERINTENDENT, OF NATIONAL CEMETERY. 47 



Then I fall asleep and dream of these my comrades with 

the dead, 
Till I waken with the chilliness and totter olfto bed. 

Then it makes np for the loneliness, this thirtieth day of 
May, ^ 

When I meet with some good faces I ha\'e met here 
many a day, 

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, weeping- friends who 
gladly come 

To scatter Spring's bright flowers o'er their lost ones' 

early tomb ! 
Ah ! it makes my old frame tremble when I see the fall- 



mg tear 



I From eyes that speak the love that brincrg the annual 
I pilgrims here; 

And when some stricken mother vents her o-rief in ac- 
cents low, ^ 
Then I'm hurried back to childhood— ah, God ! that's 



lono- a 



■s -^ 



o! 



They tell me that the fair ones of the South will strew 
their flowers 

When next they hold -Memorial Day," on both f/ieir 
graves and ours,- 

Well, this is right— I'm glad to see -ood feeling comino- 
round, ' ^ 

For hatred never moved the boys who lie beneath the 

^ ground. 
Look! over in that corner sleep a dozen -/?oys m oray " 
And I twme a wreath for each of them on Decoration 
Day I 

For who shall judge the hearts of those that orassy mound 
conceals? 

IVevc had oicr Jight and bear ?io grudg^e—xh'aX^ how a 
soldier feels ! 



48 THE OLD SUPERINTENDENT, OF NATIONAL CEMETERY. 



Fm looking forward, knowing that when I'm dead and 

gone, 
And in one of these neat grassy rows they plant the 

usual stone, 
Some lover of the soldier will, with kind and faithful hand, 
Drop roses on the grave of one who fought to save the 

land I 
Well, I see the crowd is coming, so we'll step out, if 

you please, 
That's my bench, there in the shadow of those two tall 

willow trees — 
There's my crutches, thank you kindly, you may help me 

o'er the sill, 
Sir? my leg? oh, that lies buried at the foot of Malvern 

Hill! 

MAY. 1S73. 



'^^'mi^ 



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LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS 



015 863 542 2 • 



